


Graveyard

by AndiiErestor



Series: Drabbles Out of Control [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndiiErestor/pseuds/AndiiErestor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>drabble request: "My character will visit your character's grave."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Graveyard

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. The character of Firie does not belong to me either, she belongs to a friend.

Erestor stared at the gravestone in shock. The lives of humans were already so short, why would she have cut her own even shorter? She'd only been 22 years old. She was barely past her majority. She hadn't even had time to live properly yet.

Erestor carefully placed the bouquet of flowers he'd brought on her grave and sighed. It was a painful thing, heartache. He, of all people, would know. He'd suffered thousands of years, and still did. This only served to prove that human kind could still die from grief.

He'd received the letter several days ago. A merchant was passing through Rivendell and had asked to speak to the chief councillor himself. The man hadn't seemed certain of himself as he handed Erestor the letter. As though he could not possibly be expected to deliver a letter to an elf. As though he constantly believed he wasn't in the right place, or talking to the right person.

The man's hand shook, causing him to frown. Something was very, very wrong. Erestor took the letter and went to stand behind his desk, as he started to read. He froze just before sitting down, the words- He didn't want to remember. He'd finished reading the letter, his mouth slightly open in shock, tears frozen in his eyes, before falling into his chair. He glanced up at the man standing before him. Was it real? Was she really… Dead?

"Her family said she often spoke of you," the man had told him. "They asked me to deliver this to you personally. They thought you should know…"

The next few days had been a blur. Erestor had dismissed the man and had tucked the letter into the inside pocket of his robes. He'd packed his bags and told Elrond he would not be available for the next little while. He'd spoken the same merchant who'd delivered the letter and he'd travelled with him back to Lhûn. That was how he found himself here.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting at her grave, and he didn't know how long he would stay, but he wasn't ready to leave yet. Elves lived for an exceptional long time, which meant they mourned for many years. And he'd only just begun.


End file.
